Long-distance hikers find 'magic' in kind gestures and small gifts

Wednesday

Jun 12, 2013 at 6:00 AMJun 13, 2013 at 1:05 PM

By Dave Greenslit CORRESPONDENT

It was mid-afternoon on a brutally hot day late last spring, and I could think of just two things as hiking buddy Dana Perry and I did a death march along the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania: beer and popsicles.

Just before the road crossing at the end of the day's hike, we spotted an old Styrofoam cooler to the side of the trail. Inside was a tray of muffins, and underneath that lay the Holy Grail — several cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.

No beer snob on this day, I savored a cold one while we waited for the owner of the inn where we would stay that night to pick us up. She arrived with glasses of icy lemonade, and when we got to her place I hit the daily double. She had popsicles, too.

Such random acts of kindness are known among distance hikers as trail magic. While the inn owner arguably had a financial interest in how she treated us, most trail angels do what they do simply to help out. And it's contagious. Those who get help often end up paying it forward.

Purists may argue that trail magic detracts from the self-sufficiency and independence required of long-distance hikers, and there is the very real concern that it could lead to litter along the trail. But most people involved are good stewards of the land, picking up after themselves and each other, and almost all hikers welcome the kindness, which has become a cherished part of trail culture.

In more than a decade of hiking sections of the Appalachian Trail, and more recently chunks of the Long Trail in Vermont, I've been touched or heard about trail magic.

At the end of my very first AT hike in the Berkshires, a complete stranger gave me a lift to where my ride home was waiting, this despite the fact that I hadn't bathed, shaved or changed clothes in a week. As we rode, he said he was a car salesman who had always wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail and wanted to hear about my experience.

Living vicariously through hikers seems to be motivation for many angels. Others may no longer be able to hike, like the retired phone company worker in New Jersey who has arthritis and provides free shuttle rides, and it's their way of staying connected. And then there are those who just want to help.

On Memorial Day this year, during another section hike of the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania, Perry and I came across a sign inviting thru hikers, those covering all 2,180 miles from Georgia to Maine at once, to a cookout. Though we would have been welcome, we passed because we were section hikers, out to do 135 miles on this trip. But we heard from others who had gone that a family with a vacation home near the trail had treated hikers to burgers and beer, and let those who wanted to stay the night sleep on their porch.

Perry, who lives in Westboro, has not waited to pay it forward on the trails. He gives much more than he takes.

Last year, after reading about an 88-year-old hiker with a trail name of Cimarron who was trying to hike the entire Appalachian Trail, Perry caught up with him in Vermont, where he brought supplies to the stranger and hiked with him.

On the Long Trail, he once patched up the foot of a woman who was cut at a swimming hole.

And at the start of our hike in Pennsylvania this year, when we had access to cars while staying in a cabin at Pine Grove Furnace State Park, Perry drove thru hikers to a nearby town to resupply. He and his sister, Jennifer, who hiked with us for two days and fed us like kings, also invited two young thru hikers to dine in our cabin, and then took ice cream to others staying in the hostel across the street.

The park is where thru hikers traditionally take the half-gallon challenge — eating a half-gallon of ice cream in a sitting — but the general store in the park was closed. So the Perrys brought ice cream to the hostel, enabling hikers to at least have a sample of the tradition, if not the whole gut-busting experience of the challenge.

“This is all paying it forward,” Dana Perry said after the hike. “I hope that some day someone will do the same for me and that those I have helped do the same to keep the magic moving.”

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